


the beggar's opera

by pyotr



Series: the terror kink meme fills [2]
Category: The Terror (TV 2018), The Terror - Dan Simmons
Genre: Exhibitionism, F/M, Hand Jobs, The Terror Kink Meme
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-17
Updated: 2018-12-17
Packaged: 2019-09-20 23:42:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 990
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17032161
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pyotr/pseuds/pyotr
Summary: (repost, de-anon)for all of his usual anger and surliness it was almost fun to fluster francis, to rile him where he could not retaliate. sophia had spent all her life under the thumb of some man or another; she loved francis in part because she always had the upper hand.





	the beggar's opera

**Author's Note:**

> Sophia/Crozier, public handjob
> 
> There's more than one way to enjoy the theater.

there was always something to be said of the opera.   
  
sophia had loved it as a girl. even if she had not been interested in the performance itself, there had always been a thrill in making herself up just to be seen, in slipping into a fine gown or fastening a delicate necklace at her throat. it was always the spectacle of it that she enjoyed.  
  
now, though, she carefully places her hand on francis’s knee, gently so as not to startle him. he stiffens under he touch regardless, and sophia smiles only slightly when he glances at her from the corner of his eye, something like exasperation writ across his face.  
  
“miss cracroft,” he murmurs, shifting in his seat to lean towards her. she angles herself slightly towards him; lady jane sat to her left and would surely notice if she moved too much. “what are you doing?”  
  
the box was dim and dark, all light trained on the stage below; sophia smiles again, impish this time, her teeth glinting in the gloom. she slides her hand up his thigh and listens to his quiet intake of breath and whispers, “why, I’m watching the show, of course.”  
  
he grunts in response, quiet, an acknowledgement and disbelief wrapped into one. but he doesn’t move to shake her off, instead just seems to turn his indifferent attention back to the stage, and the actors down below.  
  
sophia feigns the same, and slowly francis relaxes. he feels hot to the touch, and she revels in his barely-there shiver as she drags her fingertips upwards, over the crease in his trousers where thigh meets hip. he shifts, just slightly, readjusting; sophia shakes her head in the barest no and he stills.  
  
she is content to leave it like that for a moment, her hand resting lightly at the top of his thigh, the two of them seeming as if the act down below held them enraptured. she moves her hand just slightly, enough to merely cup him through his trousers, enough to feel the shape of his half-hard cock against her palm. from the corner of her eye, sophia watches how his grip on the arm of the chair tightens.  
  
“unbutton your trousers,” she tells him, and her voice is measured and placid, unconcerned were it not for the way that her heart beat hard between her ribs.  
  
“sophia,” francis all but hisses at her, the word forced through his teeth.  
  
she makes a soft noise, almost a hum, and moves to pull back her hand before francis catches her by the wrist. She meets his eyes and slowly, slowly he uncurls his fingers; sophia catches the tip of her tongue between her teeth as she smiles, pleased by the way francis’s gaze flicks down to her mouth.  
  
“go on.” her voice is breathy with excitement; she rests her hand on the arm of his chair.  
  
she is watching the stage but she hears him shift, the soft rustle of fabric marking the movement. oh, sophia had seen him before, in their clandestine tumbles, had touched him and had her mouth on him, but it was all still new enough to feel thrilling. the dimness of the box felt close and intimate, and she drinks in his quiet sigh when she wraps her fingers loosely around his cock.  
  
there was pride, there, and pleasure, in the way that he hardened in her grasp and how his mouth pressed into a tight line when she dragged the pad of her thumb over the reddened head. she starts her strokes slow and leisurely, almost lazy, and bites her lip to hide a smile at the way that he presses up into her hand.   
  
“don’t tease,” francis says in a low tone, and his voice is tense. “it’s not becoming.”  
  
she would tease all she liked, but she didn’t say as much. for all of his usual anger and surliness it was almost fun to fluster francis, to rile him where he could not retaliate. sophia had spent all her life under the thumb of some man or another; she loved francis in part because she always had the upper hand.  
  
“i’m a perfect lady,” she whispers back, but she tightens her grip and enjoys the way his hands curl into fists.  
  
she isn’t quite sure what the opera itself is about, at this point, far more preoccupied with catching francis’s reactions from the corner of her eye: the way his brow furrows, what makes him clench his jaw and breathe in sharp, the way she can feel him twitch just the tiniest bit on the downstroke. she clenches her thighs together; francis was not an especially handsome man, but when he closed his eyes and parted his lips just that tiny, unconscious bit, she thought him beautiful.  
  
“sophia.” her name sounds like gravel in his mouth. “sophia, please- don’t-"  
  
“it’s alright,” she murmurs, and the scene must have ended because the audience erupts into applause a mere moment before francis comes, his expression tightening and his whole body going stiff. she strokes him through it, drinking him in until he takes a deep, shuddering breath and bats her hand away from his softening cock.  
  
she spares a glance to her left, towards where her aunt and uncle sit, but they’re engaged in some conversation or another and paying no attention to her. she looks back to francis, then, and smiles at the way his face is pinched in displeasure, meets his eyes as she licks her fingers clean.  
  
he swallows thickly, just once.  
  
“you are an absolute devil, woman,” he says to her, and his voice sounds almost hoarse.  
  
“here,” sophia says, pulling her handkerchief from her clutch and handing it over. he looks positively disheveled, his trousers undone and his shirt untucked, his face still slightly ruddy. “it would be unfortunate for anyone else to see you in such a state, my dear francis.”

**Author's Note:**

> the beggar's opera was a satirical play meant to mock italian performances that were popular in england in the 18th and 19th centuries


End file.
